


I've Never Had a Group of Friends Before

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: And everything's cute and bromance everywhere, Basically no one like Burr except Burr, Burr is so done, Burr is the worst, Cute, Eliza is a cinnamon roll, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Immigrants Get the Job Done, Just Friends, Lots of bromance, Male Friendship, No Slash, Reviews please, The girls are great, The guys are great, etc. - Freeform, laffy taffy, they're so cute, too - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8343022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The year is 1776, Revolutionary-War NYC, and one Alexander Hamilton wanders the city alone in search of Princeton nobility Aaron Burr. Fast-forward two hours, when he finds himself surrounded by the best friends he could imagine - outspoken tailor-turned-spy Hercules Mulligan, friendly French aristocrat Marquis de Lafayette, and abolitionist John Laurens. With companions like these at his side, why was Alexander looking for Burr in the first place?A few snapshots of Alexander Hamilton and his three best friends, dedicated to the brilliant Mira_Jade.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mira_Jade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mira_Jade/gifts).



> No slash. Please read and review. 
> 
> Some notes about this fic's style:  
> A ~~~ indicates a transition. French phrases are in italics, translations will be at the bottom. All caps means shouting. Bold is anger or annoyance. Just wanted to clarify. 
> 
>  
> 
> Who watched the documentary last night? That was PHENOMENAL, right???

The man before Alexander Hamilton was short. 

Not that Alexander himself was particularly tall, but the way that the students at Princeton had spoken of Aaron Burr projected the image of someone stern and somewhat condescending. Someone who would loom over everyone around him.

Still, even from behind, Burr was a commanding presence. Hands clasped behind his back, legs shoulder-width apart, standing erect. His brown jacket was stylishly cut and sharply pressed. This was the man who was a Princeton celebrity, and at last Alexander had come across him. He took a deep breath and approached the man before him, the man who he had sought out so tirelessly. 

"Pardon me," he said. Aaron Burr gave no acknowledgement of him. Alexander cleared his throat. "Pardon me," he said again, a little louder. "Are you Aaron Burr? Sir?" he added, quickly tacking on the honorific.

Burr turned around, and Alexander couldn't help but feel somewhat disappointed. The man did not look kingly or legendary. He merely looked ordinary. "Why, that would depend. Who's asking?"

Alexander laughed nervously.  _Idiot! You didn't give your name._ "Sorry," he said. "Alexander Hamilton, at your service. I've been looking for you."  _For the past four days._

"Ah," said Burr, cocking an eyebrow. 

"I, uh..." Alexander fumbled over the words he had practiced so many times. "I was at Princeton and I heard your name from your friend. I think he was the bursar, I sort of punched him -"  _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did you say that?_

"...I see?"

"Yeah, sorry about that." Usually Alexander could manipulate words masterfully, but now, he was talking too much, too fast, about nothing important. He racked his brain for something more sensible to say. Of course, as a young immigrant trying to come up in the world, Alexander knew he would need powerful friends. If he could get Burr on his side... "Sir, you're legend at Princeton," said Alexander, choosing his words carefully. "Everyone there talked about, you all the time, when I was taking my course. You graduated at  _sixteen,_ they said."

"Indeed I did." 

"You see, you inspire me, sir," said Alexander, slowly feeling that he was making up lost ground. "I wanted to follow your example. Graduate ahead."

"Oh." Burr nodded, the easy smile crossing his face again. "Let me guess. You want to join the revolution, eh?"

Alexander nodded vigorously, his confidence returning to him as if he had just swallowed a potent draught of wine. "Yes, sir. How'd you do it?" 

"Why, through the legacies of my parents, of course," said Burr. "Every man has an inspiration in his life, Mr. Hamilton. Once you find yours, there's no telling where you can go." 

 _So smart!_  

"You seem quite the determined fellow, Mr. Hamilton." 

"Oh, I sure am. Sir." 

"Can I buy you a drink?"

A surge of accomplishment flooded through Alexander, and he let himself relax a little. "That would be nice." 

Aaron Burr smiled and led the way down the streets. "Ah, and while we walk, let me offer you some advice." He stopped and turned to face Alexander. "You want to get ahead?"

"Yes." 

"Learn to keep your mouth shut."

Alexander paused. "Um..."

Burr waved him onwards. "You see, the more a man talks, the more enemies he will create. You should never make your positions clear." He glanced over at Alexander. "If no one knows what you support, no one has cause to hate you." 

"But..."

"Trust me on this. When you want something from someone, you agree with him. Bad blood should always be avoided. The more placid you appear, the more willing the person will be to comply with your requests." 

They continued down the street, and Burr gave more advice. Alexander felt a sinking sensation that quickly became replace by frustration.  _This is ridiculous! It's the exact opposite of what the revolution stands for._

They came to a tavern, and Burr stopped outside the door. "Anyway, we can discuss your ambitions over some ales, eh?"

"Sure." 

Burr smiled and reached for the door. "I'd say you have some potential, kid."

_He's the same age as me._

 

The tavern's interior was warm, dimly lit, and noisy. Alexander stood blinking, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There didn't seem to be very many patrons at the hour, so why was it so loud?

"Oh, joy," Burr muttered from beside him. "The brotherhood of chaos is here." 

"Hmm?" Alexander followed Burr's pointing finger.

Three men were gathered around large tankards, talking loudly and banging on the table. Apparently, they were the source of most of the noise in the tavern. Burr started off, towards the bar, and Alexander followed, though he walked with his head twisted to watch the threesome. 

"Those are exactly the kind of people you do  _not_ want to associate with," said Burr with annoyance as he shrugged off his jacket. "Trust me. Every time they're here, it's exactly the same. Spouting off about the revolution, getting drunk. It's undignified, don't you agree?" He looked pointedly at Alexander. 

"Yes," said Alexander quickly. Seeming satisfied, Aaron Burr turned to order their drinks. 

"Yao!" shouted one of the men from across the room. He jumped up onto the table. "Friends, have you seen the forces the British are rustling up?" 

Both of his friends booed, and most of the people in the tavern turned to listen. 

"Now I've got the latest news from the front, and from what I've heard, we're doing way better than they expected." 

"Down with the British!" someone roared, and another round of clapping began. 

"See, they're  _frightened_ of us. And why? Because we're a threat and it's time King George faced it!" 

Alexander perked up a little, interested. 

" _Oui oui, m_ _es ami!_ " One of the other men jumped onto the table next to his friend. "Zis is all true. I tell you, ze American cause is wide known even as far away as France. I have confident zat my people will send ze aid we need and turn ze tide of zis rev... rev..." He trailed off, then whispered something to the first man, who gave a soft reply. "Zis revolution!" the Frenchman finished, raising his tankard. His friends cheered.

"Idiots, the lot of them," said Burr, coming up behind Alexander. "They'll meet with a sticky end one day." 

"What do you mean?" asked Alexander, surprised. "They seem pretty confident that we'll win." 

"Oh, the revolution's likely to succeed," said Burr. "With all the smart men we have at the helm, I'm sure of that. But people like those don't know when to shut up. Fools who run their mouths off wind up dead, Alexander."

"Well, well," said a voice from behind them. Alexander turned to see the three men were right behind them. The first one to speak leaned in between Alexander and Burr. He had a pleasant, freckled face with long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. "If it ain't the prodigy of Princeton college!" 

"Long time no see, Burr," said the tallest man, helping himself to a sip from Burr's tankard. 

"Excuse me, sirs, I'm having a business meeting right now." 

 _When did I ever say that?_ Alexander wondered. 

"Still messin' around, then?" the man asked. 

"We'll see who winds up in a mess at the end of this war, Mr. Mulligan," said Burr coolly.

"Owww," said the Frenchman, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "He got you, Herc." 

"Burr, what are you waiting for?" asked the freckled one. "The revolution's coming, like it or not." 

"If you stand for nothing, Burr, what'll you fall for?" Alexander added.

Instantly, all three of the revolutionaries turned to face him. "Who are you?" they all asked at once.

Alexander gulped, suddenly the center of attention. All four men were watching him.  _This was not how I expected today to go._

These three were the way he had pictured Burr. Noisy, confident, and outspoken, every word they'd said so far was in perfect agreement with Alexander's beliefs.  _You need strong, smart people on your side,_ he thought, and from what he'd heard, these might be those people.

So he did what he did best. 

He talked. 

He told them his name. He told them about his life story, his mother's death, his childhood in poverty. He talked about his ascent, the way he had come to America, his ambitions to join the revolution- which was, in his mind, the answer to everything. He went on and on. As he talked, he could feel himself coming alive, and the words poured out more rapidly with each rapid-fire sentence. When speaking to Burr, his words had been uncharacteristically jumbled and confused, but now, suddenly, every syllable fell into place. He jumped up and kept right on going at top speed. He opened up to these three, and told them all of his ambitions, his hopes for the future, his inspiration from the past. Eventually, Burr got bored and went to buy more drinks, but the three revolutionaries sat and listened. They never interrupted, and they never looked away. 

Finally Alexander finally ran out of breath and things to talk about, and he stopped. He looked from one face to another. For a moment there was silence, and in that brief moment, Alexander felt that he could have talked his way into and out of anything in the world. Then Mulligan broke the silence. 

"Wow." He looked over at his friends, who were smiling. "This guy is  _insane._ " He shook his head and looked back over at Alexander. "We need to get you in front of a crowd, man." 

"Why don't you abandon Monsieur Princeton and come sit with us?" offered the Frenchman

"Yeah, forget about Burr." Freckles wrapped an arm around Alexander's shoulder and whispered, "I hate to break it to you, but the guy's worthless." 

Alexander glanced over at Burr, who was talking to the bartender. "I'm starting to figure that out." 

All three laughed and led Alexander over to their table.

 

The afternoon stretched into evening. The four men sat, drinking, laughing, and talking about the revolution. As the hours passed, Alexander began to learn about his companions. The freckled man was named John Laurens, a strong abolitionist, shameless flirt, and firm believer in the American cause. Hercules Mulligan was the oldest, in addition to being a brash tailor who knew nearly everything about nearly everyone. The Frenchman was a Marquis, with an insanely long name that Alexander knew he would never remember, though John and Hercules just called him Lafayette. He was the youngest, barely old enough for the beard he sported, and very hyper on top of all that.

"You know, I like you," said Lafayette to Alexander when John and Hercules went to buy another round of drinks. "You have zis fire in you. It is good we are friends now,  _oui?_ "

 _Friends._ To Alexander, a friend was something special, and, for most of his life, unattainable. To be called one so easily and casually seemed strange. He returned Lafayette's smile. "Yes. It's good." 

Lafayette beamed, then, to Alexander's surprise, leaned over and kissed him on both cheeks. " _Trés bien!_ We can be friends forever." 

"Gah..." Alexander stammered. No one had kissed him in a very, very long time. 

"Laf, please, we just met the kid," said Hercules as he walked back to their table with John in tow. "Don't scare him away already." 

Lafayette frowned. "Do not call me Laf, _mon ami_. We have talked zis." 

"Don't worry," said John, sliding onto the bench, next to Alexander. So far, John was the one he felt the most drawn to. "You get used to the kissing thing pretty quickly. It doesn't seem as weird after about ten times."

"You can have him kiss you ten times right now, if you want," said Hercules. Lafayette turned towards Alexander, who quickly insisted that there was no need to bother.

John laughed. "I like you," he continued, clapping a hand on Alexander's shoulder. "You're going to have to hang out with us some more, kay?" 

Alexander looked over at Lafayette's eager face, then towards Hercules' inviting gaze, and then back to the gentle smile of the man beside him. 

"I'd love that," said Alexander. And he meant it. 

 

~~~ 

 

"What could you possibly be working on this late at night?" John asked.

He lay upside-down on his blanket, feet on the pillow. Hercules and Lafayette sat on their bedrolls finishing dinner, if the dry beef and stale bread could be called that. Alexander sat near the entrance to their tent, writing.

"Nothing," he said. "Just a letter for the general."

"For ze general, or for your own purposes?" asked Lafayette skeptically. 

"For the general."

"Hmm." Alexander's friends glanced at each other. 

"I don't believe him, what about you guys?" asked Hercules. 

"Nope." 

"So what is it that's so secret you have to keep it from your friends?" said John as he rolled over onto his stomach. 

"It's not a secret, exactly..." 

"Well, then you shouldn't mind sharing it," said Hercules. 

"It's not really any of your business." 

"Mon ami, your business is our business," said Lafayette. 

"Give it to us." John got up and walked towards Alexander, who clutched the letter against his chest. 

"No. I don't want you guys reading it." 

"Wow, this must be really good, then," said Hercules. 

John made a swipe for the letter; Alexander tried to fend him off, only for John to grab him and wrestle him to the ground. Lafayette dashed over and snatched the letter while Alexander was pinned

"Wait!" Alexander thrust out his arm to try and snatch the letter back, but Lafayette danced out of his way. John pinned his knees onto Alexander's chest and held his wrists down. 

"Read it quick!" John exclaimed as Alexander struggled beneath him. 

Lafayette unfolded the letter. "It is addressed to a Miss Schuyler." 

"Ooooo," mocked Hercules. "The question is,  _which_ Miss Schuyler, since you seem to have a thing for both of them..."

"'Dear Miss,'" Lafayette read. "'Since our past corr... corres...'" 

"Correspondence," mumbled Alexander. John stuck his elbow across his mouth. 

" _Merci, mon ami._ 'Since our last correspondence, I have thought of little but you. I await your letters wiz restlessness so great zat my friends become concerned and ask me what...'" He showed the letter to a chortling Hercules. 

"Ailment," said the tailor through tears of laugher. "It means sickness." 

" _Merci beaucoup_. 'What ailment I suffer from. How can I tell zem zat I have been completely over...' _Mon ami,_ could you ever use a small word? 'O-overpowered, not by the swords and rifles of our mighty foes, but by the sweetest, most innocent and gentle blossom in this great...' hang on, zis is crossed out. 'Zis great garden of America'. Why'd you cross that out?" 

Alexander glared at John and Hercules, who were both in fits of laughter. He could actually feel John vibrating from the weight of his mirth. 

"Oh -oh," John said, wiping away tears. "Alexander..." He fell over. Alexander got up, trying to regain his dignity through red cheeks. 

"No, seriously,  _mon ami._ Why'd you cross that out?"

Alexander mumbled a reply. 

" _Pardon_?"  

"I took it out because..." Alexander winced, knowing he would never live this down. "I thought it sounded... too sappy."

Herc, John, and Lafayette fell down, practically screaming with laughter. Alexander stood in the corner, cheeks burning. John's giggles subsided eventually, and walked up to Alexander and slung an arm around him.

"Alexander, we love you," he said. "Which means that we get to make fun of you before anyone else does. Right?" 

"Sure," said Alexander. Though still annoyed, he let John draw him into a hug, though he glared at Lafayette and Hercules over his shoulder. He pulled out of the hug, however, once he realized John was still laughing. 

 

~~~

 

"Alexander." 

Alexander felt Lafayette's slender fingers poking him in the back. He rolled his eyes.  _It's freezing, it's the middle of the night, and_ _I was just falling asleep._

"What is it, Laf?" he asked, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.  _And where were you? We all went to bed an hour ago..._

"I did somesing very bad, Alexander." 

"That's nice, Laf," he mumbled. He didn't even notice the lack of objection to the nickname. That should have been his first clue that something was wrong. 

" _Alexander,_ " said Lafayette urgently. 

"Okay, okay, I'm awake. Could we wait until morni-" Alexander rolled over and was surprised to see tears in Lafayette's eyes. "Whoa," he said. "What's wrong?" 

"I... I didn't mean to...it just slipped and now zey'll send me away..." 

"What'd you do, Laf?" 

"I..." Lafayette buried his face in his hands. "I almost... I almost ruined everything... the whole... revolution..." 

"Laf?" 

"I fired a gunshot into the air!" Lafayette burst into tears. "I - was cleaning - ze..." he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Ze guns for us, and for ze general, and so I loaded zem, and my finger slipped, and... and..." He wiped at his eyes. "And now ze British spies know where we are, and zey will attack, and we're all dead because of me..." 

"Lafayette..." 

"I wish ze bullet had gone through my head so I would not have to live with ze shame! I will die anyway though, when ze British come. _Je n'ai pas réussi mes amis_ _, mes frères d'armes, et j'ai échoué -_ " 

"LAFAYETTE." 

Lafayette looked up. Alexander got up, reached out, and brushed away his friend's tears. 

"It doesn't matter, Laf," he said gently. "We're moving camp tomorrow." 

Lafayette gulped. "We... are?" 

"The general told me. Now you're not really supposed to know that, so don't tell anyone, but yes, we're leaving. Besides, I don't think one gunshot could give us away more than all of these tents. If they wanted to attack our camp, nothing's stopping them. So why haven't they?"

"Because all the soldiers are here?" 

"Right. Don't worry about it." 

Lafayette shook his head, considering. "But zey'll still find out I did it... and zey'll send me away..." 

Alexander sighed. He was tired, and he didn't want to have to explain everything. He reached out and enveloped his friend in an embrace. Lafayette clung to him and sobbed quietly into his shoulder. 

"It's fine. Really. They won't make you leave." 

"Are you sure?" Lafayette mumbled. 

"Positive." Alexander stood there somewhat awkwardly, not accustomed to this. Never, in his life, had he attempted to comfort someone with his arms, or even to comfort anyone at all.

But then, never in his life had he loved anyone as much as he loved his friends...

Alexander ran a gentle hand through the curls that had escaped from Lafayette's ponytail. "It's late," he said. "Why don't you go to sleep?"

"Can I sleep with you, _mon ami_?" Lafayette looked up with pleading puppy-eyes. 

 _Great..._ "Um..." 

" _S'il vous plaît?_ The blankets they give us are so cold..." 

"...Fine," Alexander said through gritted teeth. "But if you breathe a  _word_ about this to John or Herc..." 

"Don't worry, my lips are seal." 

"Sealed," Alexander corrected as he got back into his bedroll. 

"That too." Lafayette crawled into Alexander's bedroll, kissed him on the cheek, and cuddled up against him. "Good night,  _mon ami._ " 

"Night." Alexander couldn't help but smile a little. Luckily, the night hid it.  _Well, I'm just glad he's not crying anymore,_ Alexander thought as he closed his eyes.  _I just hope no one heard the gunshot._

_No one heard the gunshot..._

"Waaaaaait a second," said Alexander suddenly, realizing something. "If you'd really let off a gun, wouldn't I have heard it?" Another realization struck him. " **Was this just a ruse so that you would get to cuddle with me?"**

Fortunately for Lafayette, he was sound asleep. Alexander groaned and settled back into the bedroll. "You are going to get it in the morning," he said disdainfully. Lafayette stirred slightly and shifted closer, and all of Alexander's anger evaporated. "Idiot," he mumbled, and he closed his eyes to join his friends in slumber. 

 

_~~~_

 

"I'm not worried about them." 

John and Alexander walk through the garden, side by side. Philip and Peggy are nearby, talking and laughing. Peggy was always Philip's favorite aunt. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he joined her when he did.

Alexander looks over at his friend. "No?" 

John shakes his head. They're talking about Lafayette and Hercules, the way they do often. "They're both strong. They'll be alright, in the end." 

Alexander sighs. "I still feel bad. For them, for Eliza..." 

"I know," John replies. "I know. But it's only for a little while, and then they'll be here, and then it won't hurt anymore." He smiles at Alexander. "What'll you do when Burr shows up, though?" 

"Forgive him," says Alexander honestly. "I'm not angry. I pity him more than I resent him." 

"Well, that is certainly saying a lot," says John with a laugh, linking his arm through Alexander's. For a while they walk in comfortable silence, and then John says, "We're the lucky ones, aren't we, Alexander?" 

Alexander closes his eyes. Yes, here, he is apart from Angelica, from Eliza, and from his two other friends. He has left many of the people he loves behind. And yet, he has so many people he loves here, with him. Here, there is no anger, and no pain. Death is something to laugh at, a distant memory of the past, like an embarrassing story from childhood. Life does almost feel like childhood - so long ago, and so silly, looking back. Here, he feels older, wiser. He has no regrets. Eliza will make right all of the things that he left wrong.

And while he waits for her, he has his son, he has his commander, he has his sister, and best of all he has...

"Yes, John," Alexander whispers. "We truly are." 

 

**Author's Note:**

> "Oui oui, mes ami" is, "yes, yes, my friends!" "Tres bien" is "very good." "Mon ami" is "my friend". "Merci" is "thank you" and "Merci beaucoup" is "thank you very much." Lafayette's long rant in the cuddly scene was "I have failed my friends, my brothers in arms, and I have failed -." Then Alexander cut him off. 
> 
> Historical notes:  
> Alexander did not meet John, Hercules, and Lafayette all at once. However, I liked the way Lin did it, so that is how I kept it here. Also, though in the musical he is referred to as being 19 when he meets them, in reality he would have been twenty-one. Alexander lied about his age to gain apprenticeships and positions that were open to younger men. This actually shows in the musical, when he says, "when I was seventeen a hurricane destroyed my town." The hurricane destroyed the town in 1772, and he went to the colonies. He lived there for four years, yet in 1776 he claimed to be nineteen. Do seventeen and four make nineteen? :D 
> 
> Another interesting thing I found out is that usually six men would share a tent. I wrote it that these four all have one, and then I like to imagine that they were so loud the other two guys left.
> 
> Lafayette was the youngest by two years, Alexander being the second youngest. I've read some of his and Alexander's letters, and he's a real sweetheart who looks up to Alexander a lot. So, I figure that the cuddling scene isn't too far-fetched. And I like me some bromance, but I digress. 
> 
> Peggy died the same year as Philip, 1801. As Angelica lived in London, it's plausible that she would be the aunt he saw the most and his favorite.


End file.
